All Hands Lost At Sea
by HannahCake310
Summary: Pretty Jim Kirk is one of the most well known pirates on the high seas. But what is a pirate captain with no ship? Nothing but a lonely, starving man marooned on an island.


**The Star Trek Pirate au no one asked for...**

* * *

The _Renegade_ was a ship like no other. Unmatched in both speed and maneuverability, the ship was smaller than a Royal Navy vessel yet big enough to pull off the large hauls with little effort. It was interesting with its black and brown wood once painted but now chipped giving it more character. The ship was most likely stolen from the Spanish from the marked numbers scratched away at the sides, but that just added to the ambiguity of it. Large masts and rigging tired the ship together on the deck but below was almost a catacomb of corridors and rooms. Bunks on one end, cannons and weapons on the other. The sail was large and handmade – some said from the skin of those who lost their fight with the ship, it was all ridiculous yet no one ever dispelled the rumors. The hull had been reinforced with wood and nails and prayers made by dirty men who claimed there was no God but fell to their knees in times of distress. The extra reinforcement made the hull almost indestructible and borderline invincible. Perfect for ramming anything in their path whether it be the King's own navy or other pirate ships thinking they could get the better of them. Their cannons and the people who wielded them were second to none. Swarthy men mothers and fathers warned their children about to scare them from not venturing out to sea.

The ship was the stuff of legends.

And it was sailing away from Jim.

Damnit all to hell.

Jim cursed not for the first or hundredth time that day angry not just at himself but the stupid bastards that were sailing away with Pike and the ship. Jim cursed the day that he'd ever left his own vessel to work under his godfather. At the time it had been something he'd needed to do. Captain Pike had approached him on some odd day sitting down beside him at the bar Jim had taken up residence at sipping at his rum. Pike turned to him and said he was dying. He'd then asked, _begged_ , Jim to accompany him on his newest vessel and together they would assemble a crew for a last stand against the Royal Navy or the Spanish – whatever fit their fancy. Jim had agreed then went back to his own beautiful ship to pack his bags. He left a note with an apology and a small explanation to Bones then left without another word. It hurt to leave, felt like a cutlass driving into his heart, but Pike had been there for him when he'd needed guidance and so Jim would be there for the older man.

Now, he wished he'd stayed with his ship and his lover.

Jim was one of the most known men on the seven seas. Some called him fair, some called him a bastard. Most thought he was just a ghost whispered between lips into ears in passing. Those who actually knew him usually respected him, up until this point anyways. It was a sad day when one realized he cared more for his crew than the crew did for him.

A bunch of two-faced turncoats, the lot of them.

And Captain Pike wasn't going to survive very long now that Jim wasn't there to protect him.

He'd heard their plans of mutiny just as he'd been tying down the shutters readying the port side for the night. It was the cabin boy he'd heard first, his voice too loud and excitement unrestrained. He only listened for a few minutes before he rushed to his captain's quarters ready to spill and grab for his sword. They'd never be able to draw a knife on Captain Pike if Jim was standing in front of him. But then he'd been caught just as he rounded a corner below deck. A bag slipped over his face the same time three hard punches slammed him to the ground. He had hidden daggers behind his back and in his boots but never got the chance to draw them as two feet came battling for his head and he sagged to the ground seeing stars.

It was all a blur after that of him being dragged up to the deck, thrown down at Pike's feet while they told him lies. Jim had tried to defend himself and say no, he wasn't the one who wanted the ship. He'd already had a ship damnit and he left it to come here but Pike wouldn't listen. He shook his head and the scoundrels that'd once been Jim's crew laughed as he'd been basically sentenced to death.

"We'll drop you off on an island just off the trade root and maybe you'll be found," Pike said the next day with a hard voice as he stared at Jim, tied up and gagged at his feet. "May God have mercy on your soul."

Then they threw him overboard.

He'd known. Jim realized when he'd washed ashore on the beach. The bastard had _known_ the crew was in mutiny and he'd known getting Jim off the ship before they killed him straight out was the best option. When they'd tossed Jim overboard Pike had been there with a sad look, a tear so small Jim had almost doubted he'd seen it glossing his eye. He'd been saying goodbye. He didn't have long, it was evident in his limping strides, coughing gags of breath and blood dribbling from his nose on the off chance Jim walked into his quarters at a bad time. Pike had known and he'd saved Jim by banishing him on this tropical hellhole.

"Fucking bastards!"

Jim screamed at the ship as it disappeared from view. He cursed it and Pike and everything he could think. He cursed the day he'd been born on the _Kelvin_ during a ship to ship attack with the Spanish killing his father while his mother screamed and pushed. He cursed himself for running from home to be one of those brilliant and courageous masters of the high seas. He cursed the gods that's made him fall in love with the endless ocean and creaking ships that sailed over rough waters. He cursed the day he'd left the man he loved to follow his godfather just because he was dying and he'd begged for one last shot. He cursed everything he was, a damn dirty pirate marooned on this island surrounded by salt water and coconuts. Jim screamed himself hoarse then fell forward on his hands and knees in defeat.

He had nothing. He had no sword and no flintlock pistol to shoot himself. At least when he stranded a crew member he was gracious enough to leave a pistol with one ball in it behind. He had no clothes other than the ripped ones on his back. No water but salt water and no food but the animals that scurried around on the island. No one was coming to get him. He was going to die here.

Jim screamed again grabbing at the sand in a handful and throwing it. It was oddly therapeutic so he picked up another handful and threw that one watching as the sand fell lightly to the ground, some even flew back into his face. He collected another handful and another and another throwing them at the ship he could no longer see. When he got tired he kicked at the sand like a child then fell backwards winded and sweaty.

Jim stared at the sky feeling at a loss. He'd never given up before but right now he felt like he should. Stranded on an island by his crew wasn't the way he'd wanted to die. He'd thought it'd be in battle, a cutlass driving into his heart or a well-placed minè ball shattering his skull, quick and easy. But now he'd starve or go crazy with the endless hours of burning daylight scorching his skin and depleting him of energy.

 _James Kirk if you die before I get the chance to kill you for leaving me I swear I'll bring you back from the dead just so I can finish you myself!_ Bones' letter had read when Jim had gotten it over a month ago while the _Renegade_ was in port. Jim had smiled at the letter tucking it into his breast pocket with a chuckle to read over every night. The words were harsh but Jim could read the love underlining each word. For weeks after the crew had whispered about Pretty Jim Kirk's mysterious lover. Was she some faraway girl he'd known from before his piracy days? Was it some lady of the night who took clients but begged for the blonde haired man to return to steal her away? Some thought it was a man from his old ship who stole his heart, but no one ever knew for certain.

When Jim had decided he lay in the sand moping long enough he stood up to take in his surroundings. The beach was beautiful as the waves lapped at the sand. The water was crystal blue shining almost too bright reflecting the suns harsh rays. He then took stock of himself noticing that sometime during his swim to the island the bandanna on his forehead had come off and was lost. He had his billowed shirt, though it was ripped. His pants seemed to be in good enough shape as they ended right above his boots. Jim reached down to his left boot feeling for a knife.

"Yes!" He cheered as his hands grasped a small metal dagger the _Renegade_ crew hadn't found. They'd taken his longer one but didn't check his other boot and for that Jim was thankful. Dagger in hand, Jim tripped towards the trees looking for something to build some shade.

As he worked he muttered to himself switching between damning his very existence and trying to scrape together a plan of survival. A fire would be needed with smoke, lots of it. Probably built down the beach a ways so that if a ship came through with the wrong colors he could hide in the trees long enough for the ship to pass. He'd rather die on this island then spend a day in an Englishmen's prison.

When Jim had gotten all he needed together and begun moving his various branches, long leaves and wood he started to sing to himself wiping sweat from his dirty hot face.

 _"_ _Drink up me 'earties, yo ho."_

* * *

The sun blanketed everything it touched scorching the sand and Jim's skin until it crusted when he moved. It was so hot Jim wished he could jump into a box of ice and layer it across his body until he shivered. He dreamed of rum and whisky and oh god above, _bourbon_ running down his throat quenching his thirst like no water ever could. He tried to find some fresh water in the eight days he'd been stranded but there'd been little to none. When he had stumbled across a small pool of fresh rain water he'd drank it down fast until his belly bulged and he felt uncomfortable swollen.

The island was small, smaller than even Tortuga or the Port in the East Sea. He found food that he killed easily and had taken a few dips in the water to cool his heated skin but it was beginning to not be enough. He was hungry and thirsty but mostly tired and too hot. His difficult life of plundering and pillaging had not been easy on his body but he'd never felt so weak before. Like he was drying out from the inside. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to last. He was twenty two and a third years but he felt ancient as he lay under his lean-to shelter.

Something, he didn't know what, caught his attention forcing his eyes open. They were crusty and sore, he had to shade them from the glare of the crystal water. He looked around to see what had disturbed him when a ship the size of his thumb nail appeared on the horizon. Jim's heart skipped a beat, breath coming fast but he tried not to make himself excited. It could just be a passing vessel that wouldn't even venture close enough to see Jim's slight form on the beach. It could be another pirate ship that didn't particularly like Jim – there were plenty of pirates that despised him. Or God forbid, it could be a ship with the wrong colors. Jim would rather stay marooned on this forsaken island then be picked up by the English. Forget that he'd he hung for treason he hated more the humility of it. They would parade him around in chains boasting of their brilliance in their red and white ostentatious uniforms that Jim would rather spit on. He'd seen what the King's men do to pirates – hang them then set their bodies on display at the port entries to scare men and women who thought piracy was a better life. Jim would rather see the other end of his dagger before that happened. So, he stayed where he was waiting for the ship to lengthen as it drew closer.

His body was ridged as the ship came fully into view. He searched for the colors hoping beyond hope that this was a friendly, that this could be–

Jim felt faint as the flag came into view. A part of him already knew the truth as he saw the hull of the vessel but he wanted to make sure. When the colors whipped with the wind Jim felt sand hit his knees as he fell. The Jolly Rodger dyed red smiled at him from so far away. Jim felt tears well in his eyes. It was his ship. It was the _Enterprise_.

He scrambled to his feet screaming and hollering like he'd never before. Dried mouth and weak limbs were forgotten as he made any ruckus he could in the sands on the beach.

"Save a damned soul!" He screamed as loud and as hard as he could making his voice scratch against his dry throat.

The _Enterprise_ had been traveling along the coast made a direct turn to the left and that's when Jim knew they had heard him. He roared one last time before his knees gave out and he fell to the hot sand. Jim didn't even notice as the sand burned his bare skin. A smile colored his face splitting his chapped lips until they bled.

 _Enterprise_ came closer and closer until Jim could just make out small people grouped at the sides. They were staring at him just as he stared at them. Jim brought his hands up in a wave but he was too tired to move them back and forth. He saw a small boat being hoisted to the sea and a cluster of bodies boarded it. The small wooden boat then started to row towards the island and all Jim could do was stare.

He wasn't sure how long it took for the boat to draw near but he knew it took too long. Jim pulled himself off the ground wanting the men who'd once been his crew to see him standing up proud like the man he once was. When the boat got close enough Jim lost his breath as he saw the man in front. Scowling, tan and looking closer to murder than Jim'd ever seen was Bones. His Bones. His heart pattered hard in his chest.

"Well look who it is, it's Pretty Jim Kirk." Bones was the first one out of the boat and walking towards him. Jim couldn't stop the glee that rushed through his veins. He couldn't believe that not an hour ago he'd felt weak, now he was elated with more than happiness at seeing the scruffy man not twenty feet before him.

"I never agreed to that name, Bones." He laughed stumbling the distance between them.

Bones' eyes glinted with something Jim couldn't place as they got within a few feet of each other. "And I never agreed to that one either."

A fist came slamming into his face snapping his neck to the side. Jim fell into a heap on the sand. "That's for only leaving me a note you bastard. Damn asshole pirate!"

"I see your right hook has gotten better." Jim commented looking up at the bright sky feeling watery tears run down the sides of his face from his eyes. He wasn't even angry, and slightly less surprised. He knew he deserved everything he got but it had still been a hard one, Bones never really did pull his punches with anyone. "I would get up but my legs feel weak and I may throw up on the lot a'ya."

Jim could almost hear Bones' anger receding as he bent down kneeling in the sand. He felt Jim's forehead then touched his stomach at which Jim hissed at. "Well you're burned, that's for damn sure. Funny, I thought scoundrels like you have silver skin but I guess not even the great _Pretty Jim Kirk_ can stave off heat stroke. Maybe you could use some'a that know-how you learned in little Buccaneer school to smart you're way outta this, huh? How do you feel?"

"Like an idiot." Jim answered dryly.

"We know that already," Bones snapped prodding at the most burned area of Jim's face. "Other than that."

"Thirsty. Sore. Feel like I've gone three rounds with a Royal Guard." Jim answered truthfully to which Bones nodded at flagging the others by their small boat over.

"Damn it Jim, you're just this side of dying, you're lucky we found you." Bones' voice was gruff but his eyes only held concerned.

"Kirk!" One man from the crew of four who'd come in the boat yelled. He sounded distinctly like Hikaru Sulu. "So, how is joining Pike's crew going for you?"

Jim chuckled as he was helped to his feet. Arms went around his torso as Bones helped him. "Oh you know, good days and bad days."

"Aye," Scotty was also there helping to keep the boat from washing away in the waves. "I cannae imagine this is a good 'un huh, Captain?"

Jim looked at him in confusion before he was helped into the small boat. Scotty, Sulu, Bones and someone Jim didn't know boarded after him.

"We've been trailing you for a few weeks but lost ya over by the split." Bones told him. "When we did finally find the _Renegade_ again well…" He trailed off. Fear trickled down Jim's spine.

"What?"

"We found the carcass of the ship. It was burnt out and barley floating in the water. It looked like an attack from another vessel, Spock thinks it was the Spanish by the cannon shot markings. There were bodies that we identified but we never found yours so we decided to trace the ships path backwards. We knew you'd never let yourself be captured."

Jim was quiet for a few minutes as Sulu and the man he didn't know rowed them towards the _Enterprise_. "What of Pike?"

"… All hands lost. I'm sorry Jim." Bones brought a hand around Jim and he was so tired he leaned into it.

They _thunked_ against the hull of Jim's beautiful Enterprise. Sulu tied their small boat to the larger one and waited for Jim to get up. When he didn't move, Bones grabbed his arms and pulled. "Up ya go." Together they climbed their way and Jim practically fell over the rigging tied to the side of well-formed vessel. Happy voices cried out when he righted himself with Bones' help on the deck.

"Captain!"

"Kirk!"

"Good to see ya, sir!"

Suddenly he was crowded by the crew members he'd left behind. They looked good, rambunctious and ornery as ever. Chekov, the young cabin boy had grown a few inches and Uhura, the one and only woman he'd allowed on his ship smiled at him crossing her strong arms shaking her head. They yelled questions all at once bombarding Jim too quickly and too loudly after so much time alone. This was strange, usually when a captain abandoned his crew they hated them, a knife in the back was a sooner end to a man who left his crew high and dry in the great sea. But none of them looked too particularly angry to see Jim, well, other than Bones but Jim figured most of the Doctors' bark was worse than his bite.

Jim's head started to spin, he needed something to drink and he needed to lay down in the very, _very_ near future. He swayed hard on his feet falling into Bones in the process. The crew stopped their questioning and laughter as they saw their Captain's red face awash with sweat and ripped clothing stumble. They got quiet, staring.

"Back to your places you dogs!" Scotty yelled breaking the tense silence. "I donnae think this ship'll runs itself." And they were all off leaving Jim to breathe hard against Bones' chest in relative peace.

Bones brought Jim's arm up around his shoulders. "Your quarters. Now."

Jim shook his head feeling sick. "I don't have any–"

"Captain's quarters you fool kid."

"Captain?" Jim thought maybe he would be coming back as a deck scrubber at best. No way would they give him back the ship.

"We trailed after you for three months for a reason, Jim." Jim turned hearing Spock's voice behind him. "You are the one and only captain." If tears stung Jim's eyes no one commented on it. "Orders, sir."

Jim cleared his throat looking around his ship with pride swelling in his chest. "Hoist the colors, Mr. Spock. Let get out of here."

"Very good, sir."

"Hoist the colors!"

Bones grabbed his arm and pulled, Jim almost fell over as his own two legs. Bones started muttering about how he hated pirates just as Jim smiled being led to his quarters. He needed a strong drink, a long sleep, some time with the handsome man on his side and then he could captain his beautiful ship once more.

 _Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me._


End file.
